Prayer For The Faithless
by Sharona1981
Summary: A priest who loses his faith finds a certain puzzlebox...


Prayer For The Faithless

_A priest turns his back on his faith after one tragedy too many and comes across a certain puzzle box. Those of an even remotely religious persuasion would be advised not to read this; as I have stated before, I'm an atheist, but I have no desire to insult or offend anyone or their faith. The Hellraiser mythos, Pinhead and Angelique belong to Clive Barker and all other appropriate parties. Everything else is mine. Oneshot-rated T to be safe. _

'..._**And the Word was made flesh, and lived among us**_."-**John 1:14**

Philip Holland could not recall a time when he had not had faith. From the time he was a young boy, an only child raised by staunch Catholic parents, he had always possessed a firm and unwavering belief in God. Even after tragedy befell him-losing his parents, aged eighteen, in a car crash; being diagnosed with throat cancer at only twenty-three, but thankfully recovering-he had always believed that God, that supposedly omniscient and all-seeing deity, had only his best interests at heart.

He had joined the priesthood several months after doctors gave him the all-clear, believing that a life of servitude to God was where his destiny lay, and for eight years, he was perfectly content with his Spartan existence of prayer and dedication.

Until he broke one of the Church's cardinal rules:

He fell in love.

It started out so innocently-he had met Louise Bryant at a prayer meeting a little over a year ago. Petite and beautiful, with long black hair, and chocolate-brown eyes, Philip had nonetheless told himself that she was forbidden, that women were strictly out of bounds for a servant of the Church. So he'd struggled with his growing feelings, as Louise turned to him more and more for guidance and, initially, friendship. She had recently divorced her abusive husband after a hellish marriage of only three years, and was trying to find her way in the world again. And eventually, though he fought his love, his desire, tooth and nail, he offered to show her the way. By offering her himself.

Of course, it was imperative that their love remain secret; they had to sneak around like a couple of teenagers, losing themselves in their mutual joy and love, and in each other, at every opportunity.

And then, Louise revealed that she was expecting Philip's child.

Unfortunately, the Church found out, and the furious Bishop wasted no time in issuing Philip with an ultimatum-he couldn't have the Church _and _his 'whore'. Philip told Louise that he would leave the priesthood, and his faith, behind, that he loved her too much to let her go-but she, devastated, had told him that their love was a mistake, an abomination in the eyes of God. She ended it.

And less than a week later, she took her own life-and that of their unborn child.

It was at the exact moment Philip learned about the demise of the woman he loved and his child that he renounced God, deciding the idol he had blindly worshipped all these years either simply did not exist, or turned an indifferent eye to suffering. Heartbroken, bitter and disillusioned, he turned his back on the Church, and proceeded to immerse himself in all the physical gratification the world had to offer-alcohol, drugs, sex. However, his experiences only deepened his apathy, rather than give him any semblance of sensation or satisfaction. He needed more. He needed to _feel_ more.

He found the box, the beautiful, intricate puzzle box, quite by accident-or so he thought. He was passing by an antique store, when the sun glinted off something shiny and glittering, and the moment his gaze fell on the box, he was filled with an overwhelming urge to possess it.

The store owner was a tiny old man, who had enjoyed, at best, a passing acquaintance with soap and a toothbrush, and Philip, trying not to gag at the unwashed stench emanating from him, asked how much the box was. The man grinned, displaying decaying teeth. "Whatever you think it's worth." He replied. When Philip reached into his pocket and took out a couple of loose bills, the old man's hand shot out with surprising speed, and grabbed his. "Exactly the amount I wanted." He said firmly, and took the money. "Take it. It's yours."

Philip brought the box home in a daze, not entirely sure as to what had just transpired. He felt he had paid far too little for this exquisite treasure, but, by the same token, he'd been desperate to get out of that store, away from that abhorrent old man.

Closing his bedroom door, he flung himself down on the bed. Not one centimetre of his home contained anything remotely religious. His tenure as a priest now felt like someone else's life. He still thought of Louise and his child from time to time, but they, too, were becoming obsolete. All that mattered now was deeper sensation, forbidden pleasure. Although, so far, sensation and pleasure had also failed him.

Curious, Philip took the box in his hands and began to examine it, explore it. He let his fingers dance around its sides, not even realizing that his hands were moving completely by instinct.

Minutes morphed seamlessly into hours; Philip was oblivious to the passage of time, concentrating only on the box. He realized now that it wasn't merely a box, but a puzzle that yearned to be solved. He could have sworn he felt something move, only moments ago.

Finally, with a satisfying click, the box rolled out of his hands and onto the thickly carpeted floor. Inching forward, Philip looked down, mouth open in fascinated wonder, as it began to change shape, a sweet, sorrowful melody coming from it.

And then he shivered, as a cold wind, unbidden, whipped through the air-and somewhere beyond his room, an ominous bell tolled.

Philip shrieked, tumbling off his bed and crawling backwards across the floor, as a huge crack split his bedroom wall, and the room became awash with white light. Then he froze completely, his blood turning to ice in his veins, as he watched two figures came out of the light.

And as soon as he saw their faces, he screamed.

They were not human; in fact, they were like nothing Philip had ever imagined. The first appeared to be female, and she might have been beautiful, except for the fact that her scalp was peeled back and pinned to her shoulders, her brain exposed and glistening. She, like her companion, was dressed in what seemed to be a leather uniform with tools strapped to the waist. She was smiling at him, in a wanton parody of lust that made him shudder.

Vaguely aware that, in his panic, he had lost control of his bladder, he wrenched his eyes from one abomination and laid them on the other.

He was male, it seemed, and like the female was dressed entirely in leather, and, around the chest, sections of flesh had been peeled down, and stitched into his outfit, leaving open wounds.

But his face...oh, dear God, his _face_...

His head was completely devoid of hair, and a grid had been carved into his head and face. Then, at each point of the grid, in perfect symmetry, a pin had been pounded into his skull, probably piercing his brain as well. They were grotesque creatures-and yet, there was an air of sadistic eroticism about them as well.

The demons stood there for a moment, the female suddenly wearing an expression of contempt, the male looking unswervingly patient. Then, out of the light, another figure emerged.

And Philip screamed again.

It was another female, but other than a head of slicked-back red hair, any shred of femininity had been completely stripped away. She, like the other two, was dressed in the apparently obligatory leather uniform, and they each had eyes as black as darkest night. But this thing, if possible, was the most horrific of the three. Her teeth had all been filed to a point-she had a mouth full of fangs that seemed to perpetually drip blood. Her fingernails were almost an inch long, and the skin on her hands seemed to have been torn open, then haphazardly stitched back together. However, that wasn't the worst of it. Her entire chest cavity was open, the skin peeled back, and apparently stitched to her sides, revealing a heart, long-decayed and blackened.

The first female turned to the one who had just arrived, lips pursed in a _moue _of disgust, obviously holding no great affection for the fanged creature. "You took your time, Saber." She snapped. "Have you no idea...?"

"Silence, Angelique!" The pinheaded creature cut in sharply, and the female pouted, but obeyed. The one called Saber on the other hand, was awarded a look of fondness. And then, slowly, she began to approach Philip. He continued to crawl backwards, never tearing his eyes off the thing coming towards him. "W-What in God's name...?" He gasped.

Saber shook her head slowly, smiling slightly. "Oh, no." She retorted. "_Nothing _here is in God's name. Especially _you_, Philip. Tell me-why do you still refer to him, when you no longer believe in him?" Making a sweeping gesture with her hands, she added, "Does it _look_ like God's here?"

Philip was trembling uncontrollably now. "This isn't...this isn't what I wanted." He stammered. "I didn't ask for..."

"Oh, but you _did_." Now it was the pinheaded creature's turn to speak, his voice deep and distinctly British. He came forward at a slow pace, with Angelique trailing behind at a close distance. She seemed to have no interest in Philip, but was regarding what was evidently the leader with blatant hunger in her eyes.

'Pinhead' seemed to be oblivious to Angelique's lust, as he continued, "God failed you, didn't he, Philip? You lost your parents, almost lost your life-and then, your lover killed herself and your child. You turned your back on God, and sought pleasure, pleasure beyond human limits. Am I right?"

Philip could not deny any of this, though he was astonished the creature knew so much about him, and he nodded miserably, before asking, "What are you?"

"We are Cenobites." Saber answered him. "Explorers of the flesh, of the extremities of pleasure and pain. Demons to some, angels to others."

"You opened the box." Angelique took up the thread of the speech, tossing Saber a look simmering with mistrust and hatred as she did so. "Now, you are obliged to come with us, where we will show you the true meaning of pleasure."

As the three of them came closer, Philip managed to stand, aware that he stank of urine, but past caring. "No!" He shouted, trying to sound as brave as possible. "I don't want this-I take it back!"

He turned, trying to get the door open, then screamed in agony when chains with jagged hooks at the ends came flying through the air, seemingly out of thin air, and latched onto him, ripping through his clothes and into his flesh, then lifted him high, stretching him, his blood puddling onto the floor, as he continued to scream.

Pinhead stared up at him, his expression stony and implacable. "Your soul cried out for deliverance." The tone of his voice was benign, but his intentions were obviously anything but. "We are here to give it to you. Welcome to Hell."

Philip uttered a final braying scream, and then the chains gave a final vicious tug, tearing him apart completely. As chunks of flesh scattered on the ground, blood spraying everywhere, the three Cenobites watched impassively for a minute, before Angelique bent and picked up the box from the floor, and closed it with barely a brush of her hand. "His soul is ours." She said, not without satisfaction. "Let us go."

As she turned to leave, however, Pinhead grabbed her arm and wordlessly took the box from her. "Go." It was an order, not a request. "Go and tell our lord Leviathan that we are on our way." Angelique hesitated, then rolled her eyes, a very human gesture. If a childish one. "Really, Xipe." She hissed. "Must you continue to shame yourself with _that_?" She pointed to Saber as she spoke, and the demon known as Xipe Totec tightened his grip on her arm and replied, voice low but dangerous, "_That_ is whom I have chosen as my consort, Angelique. Take care to remember that."

Saber spoke up, her tone mocking. "I know only too well of your desires, Angelique. Your desire for Xipe, your desire to rule the Labyrinth at his side. But that will never happen. I offered myself to him, not out of a desire for power, but because I wanted to give myself to him utterly. And I have. As he has to _me_. Is that understood?"

Angelique did not reply, but spun on her heel and marched through the crevasse left in Philip's wall, back to Hell. As soon as she was gone from sight, Saber turned to Xipe with a sigh. "Her jealousy continues to be an issue." She said, then sighed again, with a definite air of contentment this time, when her mate pulled her into his arms. "Only if we _allow_ it to be, my love." He said soothingly. "Angelique knows I have no desire for her-that is the cause of her resentment. The fact that I have taken a consort has deepened her anger. But you have no cause to worry." Turning Saber's face up to his, he added, "I only have eyes for you."

Xipe hissed as Saber's long fingernails raked the wounds on his chest. "I would certainly hope so." She purred. "After going to all that trouble to regain my soul, I would hate to think you would turn to Angelique."

"Never!" Xipe proclaimed emphatically, then kissed her with a longing that only intensified with each passing moment, both heedless to his pins sticking into her skin. Eventually, he pulled away, then panted breathlessly in her ear, "I am _yours,_ Nadine,"-he didn't often use her human name, only on rare occasions outside of the Labyrinth-"as you are _mine_." Holding out his hand to her, he smiled slightly, a smile full of desire and invitation, and added, voice barely above a whisper, "Let us return to my chamber-and I shall prove it to you."

And with that, Saber, formerly known as Nadine Jones, human, vampire and lover of Elliot Spenser, took her consort's hand and allowed him to lead her back into the Labyrinth, back to Hell.

_Back home... _

**THE END**.

_(As you could probably tell, this serves as a sequel of sorts to Break The Silence, and was an opportunity to introduce Nadine as a Cenobite. Please R&R! Thank you!) _


End file.
